Bold : When We were Young
by Whackedgourd
Summary: The how, when, why, and who, became the head of Clan Macintosh. Takes place several years before the war that had Fergus uniting the Clans. Eventual humour.
1. Bemused

BOLD

The Time Before Brave

The prequel to my Brave story. This tells about how Lord Domhnull Macintosh met his wife Idelle. Her travelling partners are just for continuity's sake, I couldn't write them in as love interests or even major protagonists. They will eventually fade into the background, as Idelle and Domhnull get more spotlight time.

Before the war, before the need for a king, before marriages and children, and demon bears to complicate things. Many clans found they had a surplus of young, rambunctious first, second, or third sons, doing nothing but kicking their heels and waiting for their inheritances' to come through.

Several clans had already put their heirs on the hunt for ancient weapons from places that existed mostly in legend. Few came back alive, less came back successful. Barbaric as it was, this was an acceptable to whittle down too many heirs to one clan, and keep rumours of invasion to a minimum in rival clans.

One such clan had quite a few sons and daughters, the Macintosh Clan. Illness had taken the oldest son three years prior and still the youngest boy was stronger and clever than his two elder brothers. His four sisters, two a pair of twins and the other two both younger than him, had all been married into advantageous matches. His elder brothers and he were as yet unmarried as all were still under twenty five, and he himself just turned twenty. The wife of his eldest brother had returned to her clan after his death, and not feeling comfortable in her dead husbands clan without a child to tie her to it.

Domhnull watched as his brothers sparred in the training ring. Both were stripped to the waist, and both had many more woads than he did. He had three, each earned in an attempt on his father, or dead brothers' life. His mother had always told him that he would do great things, she had passed away after giving birth to his twin sisters when he was four. Domhnull had held onto her words even after his step mother tried to bend him to her ideals. She had also died in childbirth, leaving his lord father with two more daughters, a newborn and a three year old. Domhnull swore to himself to have only two or three children, and to have only one wife.

As his brothers sparred, Domhnull realized his restlessness. He wanted to lead and be followed, but he could do neither while his brothers were both intent on leading the clan between them. Ramsey would lead in times of peace, his level head and silver tongue had already gotten then clan more land for the apple groves and farming. Raine would be the war chief, he was a brilliant tactician and fought with two swords. He was a whirling devil on the battle field. Domhnull had yet to do more than be in the right place at the most opportune time. He was also thin as a rail and looked ridiculous with his chosen battle mace. Domhnull sighed, boredom had become his closest friend in the past few years.

As he sat, he became aware of being watched, he spun around, looking in all directions. Nothing, this sense had been troubling him for several days and had gotten so intense, that he was unable to sleep at night. He settled back into his position and waited for his turn to spar. Before that happened however, the battle drums sounded, and the screaming began almost immediately.


	2. Battle

The battle was hard, Domhnull watched as first Raine fell to the Northmen. His swords no match for several of their spearmen and archers. Ramsay was next to fall, right over the body of his twin brother. As Raine had fallen, Ramsay hadn't even turned to see him before howling in pain and loss. An archer's arrow had silenced Ramsay as he turned to look at Domhnull. The Macintosh war cry had died in Domhnull's throat, when a sheild had made contact with his head. The last thing he saw was his father being cut down before he could get to his last living son.

"Ere now, he's waking up." a deep voice said to his left. "Easy now. Yer brain'll rattle a bit here and sure yer not addled to sit up?" said the voice. Domhnull recognized the Doric lilt and sighed. The Norsemen had made it all the way to the northeast.

"What's it matter if he can sit up? He's as dead as we'll be here soon enough." snapped a lighter voice. Dingwall was easy to identify, no matter the circumstances. Of course, how they got the main heir to the Dingwall Clan was easy enough to imagine, the young man was a hot head and wouldn't abide a raid or two a year. Domhnull sat up and held his pounding head.

"Where are we?" Domhnull asked in old Gaelic, something the norsemen didn't understand.

"On a boat, about to head into the wilderness around Castle Dunbroch. They're planning to raid the high lord and take his daughter for ransom. She's barely fifteen." said the large Doric man. He was already quite large, and had a thick beard and mustache, though he was two years Domhnull's senior. They spoke for a few minutes, until one of the larger norsemen tried to bully Domhnull into attacking him. Gormal MacGuffin stood and though his hands were chained to the rail of the ship, he still presented an imposing distraction to the norseman, who in turn, began to shout at Gormal, leaving Domhnull and Artair Dingwall alone for the moment.

Soon though, the norseman decided to take Domhnull's own mace and attempt to strike Gormal with it. He succeeded in snapping the chains binding Gormal to the ship. Gormal rolled his shulders to work out the kinks of having them tied awkwardly, them stepped towards the norseman, who had gone the colour of milk. Gormal, in a motion so fluid and quick, left most of those watching, in awe. Gormal had taken another step forward and with ease of practice, had slammed his head against the norseman, in a blow powerful enough to make the man crumple into a heap, unconscious. Gormal then turned to the leader of the morthern men.

"You promised me and my countrymen safety." Gormal said. "I am here at my discretion. You've tried to kill me and failed three times now."

"It shall not happen again." said the leader, he looked a little shaken. Gormal nodded, and sat down, no one moved to chain him again. Domhnull and Artair looked at Gormal in awe.

"I surrendered myself as a hostage, when they tried to take the Abbey my sister is in. She would've been used and killed to their pleasure." Gormal said quietly. "The leader knows that his leader would want a high born hostage, with MacGuffin land so fertile for growing grains. I can extract promises of safety and good food, so long as I don't ask for much. These norsemen are barbaric. You may both be headed for slavery."

"That's ridiculous! I am the…!" Artair began indignantly.

"The son of a farmer!" Domhnull hissed, slapping Artair with his free hand. "If they find out anything, our family's will pay through the noses to get us back." he added in Gaelic.

Artair fumed for a while, but eventually accepted reason over insult.

Before twilight came, the ship put down anchor in a hidden seaside cove. One that had seen a lot of use from the northern invaders. Domhnull, Artair, and Gormal, were loaded into a longboat and taken ashore, to be put with a dozen or more other men and women destined for the slave trade. This thought made Domhnull snort, no Scotsman, or woman was ever a good slave, or even a bad slave. They were horrible from the get go as a matter of course.

Domhnull was shoved towards a fire with several others already around it. He was given a bowl of what looked to be oatmeal, and ate it quickly, wincing at the heat and lack of salt or spices to flavour it. Gormal was taken to the leader's fire and served like he was equal to the large man. Artair was at his side, glowering at everything. Gormal and Artair were returned to Domhnull's fire after they had both eaten. They assumed the he was nothing more than a warrior and the Artair was Gormal's friend. Domhnull later found out that Artair's father had him lead a delegation to the MacGuffin's in an effort to make an alliance. Domhnull didn't really care for politics, that was for Ramsay, just as fighting was for Raine. Thinking of his brothers made him remember how his father had run for them and not him. He hadn't even gotten his mace up before being knocked unconscious.

Gormal nudged him with his elbow and Domhnull looked at him.

"They knew our weaknesses, both in the walls and our men." Domhnull said coldly.

"They were planning for weeks, and had lookouts watching your clan for just as long, to determine a good time to attack." Gormal said quietly. "They planned on taking your holdings as a base for them to put in a settlement. They knew my sister was in the Abbey and wanted my father, but took me in order to keep him in their control."

"Do they know they have Dingbat?" Domhnull asked, with a bit of mirth, he and Artair Dingwall would never be the best of friends. "His family lands are worth much more with the copper mines."

"These norsemen want lands for growing food. Your orchards are coveted, as fresh fruit is worth it's weight in gold on a sea voyage." Gormal explained.

"Our apples are superior to others." Domhnull said proudly. "So then why haven't they ransomed me yet?"

"They don't know you are the last male heir. And your clan managed to route them before your father got killed in battle. He's probably trying to find you even now." Gormal said, he had been grilled to give what he knew to the norsemen. He only knew the basic outline of Castle Moigha and had told them so. Domhnull was a little relieved that his father had survived, of course he had to survive in order to mount a rescue.

"Let's get some rest. Morning will be when they leave us for the others to take back to their lands." Gormal said, as he stretched out on the sand. Domhnull and Artair followed suit and soon, all three were asleep. Sometime after midnight, the whole camp roused and moved the captives into the woods to finish the night under the canopy of trees to avoid the rain that had come up from the sea.

Before any of the Scots went back to sleep, they all made protections as best they could from what few oak trees they could find. The norsemen laughed at them and their superstitions. They didn't know that the forest they were in was considered to be heavily occupied by the Otherfolk.

These Others were a rare breed, and liked to kidnap people thay thought were being disrespectful to them or their homes. They were rumoured to kidnap children and leave rocks in their places. Some of the older Dingwalls believed that was where their treasured rock came from. Domhnull sighed and laid down after making his ward. He was soon asleep.

Morning came, along with another bowl of thin, tasteless, porridge, and a change of their captors. The captives were muscled to their feet, and driven deeper into the woods. Domhnull realized that the norsemen weren't after Castle Dunbroch, They were after the treasures from before time was kept, nearly a thousand years ago. The Dunbroch Clan kept these things hidden away, most were cursed, or just tacky. His own family's artefact had belonged to a bard from almost six hundred years ago. The MacGuffin soup pot was said to have been given to one of his ancestors by a noble in the Court of Light, grateful for being given the last of the family's meal.

They walked for hours, deeper into the forest, there was very little in the way of wildlife, there were no squirrels in the trees, the few birds were either very brave, or weren't birds at all. Which was likely, as any knew that scouts could whistle like birds to signal their comrades. They were soon near the centre of the forest. The trees were all ancient and draped in moss and vines. Trunks were bigger around than four large men could circle with their arms. All the captive Scots were quiet, no one spoke unless they had to. The norsemen thought it was them that had subdued the usually energetic prisoners, but soon even they were quiet, just from the tense feeling that spread from the prisoners, and the feeling of being watched that came from the forest itself.

Domhnull, Gormal, and Artair, sat at their fire when evening came and their captors decided to set up camp early. Gormal and Artair had been kept at the front of the procession and had been interrogated about the forest. But they only told the legends about the woods. A demon bear, unusual things that came from the brackish ponds and swamps, things that defied description, living inside the trees themselves. Domhnull had been snapped at by one of the northern men, and he replied in his lilting gaelic that the man could go drown in a rain puddle. The man had looked at him curiously, before shrugging and writing him off as useless. After a while, all the Scots and their captors had lapsed into silence, none spoke for fear of angering someone.

If not for the fires and torches that were lit to keep the captives in sight, the night would have been black as ink. Not fireflies lived this deep in the woods, even phosphorescent mosses and moulds were subdued. As Domhnull watched with tired eyes, he began to notice the shadows. Different shapes moved slowly, rhythmically, while smaller ones spun this way and that. All seemed to go towards the norsemen and then retreat, as if trying to ascertain just what these men were. Domhnull soon fell asleep, his eyes dropping shut of their own accord. He was awakened before dawn, when one of the norsemen screamed bloody murder.

To battle and capture. Domhnull and Gormal strike up a comraderie almost immediately. Artair will take some getting used to. Read and Review please. I'd like to know what I'm doing right or wrong.


	3. Bewildered

Domhnull woke to the sound of screaming in a tongue he didn't understand, the wind howled through the trees, and it seemed like every animal that could, was screeching it's lungs out. He would later realize, that all the norsemen and many of the Scots had given in to the instinct to scream in fear along with everyone else. Domhnull sat up and looked around, trying to find the danger. It didn't seem to be anywhere nearby, so he took to trying to get out of his manacles. A sharp slim bladed knife thanked into the tree near his head. He looked up at the person who had thrown it and realized that it was either a woman or a very young man. He was willing to bet woman, because no man would admit to being able to throw knives.

The strange thing about the woman, was that she was dressed in battle armor, yet moved as if clothed in silk. Then he noticed the other invaders, two more women, he guessed. One clothed in a bright red wrap, and the other was a Norse woman with a sheet of white blonde hair an ell or two long. All three moved like silk in the water, never in the same place for more than long enough to take down an enemy. As he watched, manacles forgotten, the tallest, regal looking woman with skin the colour of old, well oiled leather, took her spear and snapped the chains binding Gormal to Artair and handed him the spear, before she ran to join her partners. The blonde woman had found where the head of the norsemen had hidden himself and was calmly ignoring his protests and accusations as she tied him and his countrymen to each other, while the armor-clad warrior woman went from one huddle of Scots to the next, either breaking chains or unlocking manacles.

The battle had been short and fierce, Domhnull thought, many of the norsemen had been killed in their beds, the one who had started the screaming had been killed with a knife in his throat a moment too late. Those that had survived the sneak attack hadn't been many and they were easily taken down or defeated. As it stood, there was only the leader and a handful of guardsmen left alive. Domhnull stood and held his arms out so the short woman could unlock his manacles when she came close.

"Who sent you to rescue us?" Domhnull asked as soon as he was able. Gormal and Artair had joined him, and all three looked at the woman, who looked trapped for a fleeting moment.

"The King sent me to purge his woods." said the girl, she seemed no older than Domhnull himself.

"Scotland doesn't have a King." Artair said with a snort, and got a withering look in return.

"Not yet, it doesn't." said the woman with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, as if Artair had said something incredibly stupid. She headed over to the hand cart one of the norsemen had been pulling, it was full of weapons, including:

"That's my father's claymore! How did they get it off the hearth?!" Domhnull shouted, shoving aside the girl and taking his fathers' sword. "Sorry, er, what's your name?"

The girl stood and unceremoniously sucker punched Domhnull in the gut, then swept his feet out from under him.

"You can all call me Idelle." Idelle said, going back to searching through the weapons. "It's not here. Arrgh! I'm never going to find it!"

"Find what?" Gormal asked quietly.

"Who are you? And why does it matter to you?" Idelle snapped suddenly, turning and glaring at Gormal, who looked a little taken aback at her sudden change in attitude.

"We may be able to help you with your quest, our honour demands that at least." Gormal said, straightening up to his full height, making both Domhnull and Artair start at how large he really was. Domhnull was a few inches taller, but being as thin as he was, it seemed Gormal was larger. Idelle eyed them all for a moment, then slumped, looking pained.

"Stupid quest rules." Idelle muttered darkly, then straightened. "Fine, until your honour is satisfied, you can all tag along. But you'll all have to take care of yourselves. I'm not going to nursemaid any of you along, or play the meek, and subservient maid to be protected. You've seen for yourselves just what I'm capable of doing to a lot of grown men twice my size." Idelle said, gesturing to the many dead bodies scattered around.

"You didn't do it alone." Artair pointed out.

"You didn't help. You hid behind the giant here and cried like a baby." Idelle snapped back, Domhnull couldn't help himself, he started chuckling at the way Artair's face went purple in rage. Even Gormal coughed to hide a laugh.

Several hours after dawn, most of the Scots had left, with the norsemen as their prisoners, headed for Castle Dunbroch. Only Domhnull, Gormal, and Artair, remained in the woods, with Idelle. Her companions had vanished into the woods, raising a lot of questions.

Idelle had tossed all the weapons into a brackish swamp, when Artair protested the loss of them, she invited him to go in after them. He was about to do that, when he looked into the water, no more than a few feet deep, and didn't see the weapons. Artair had turned back to Idelle, she had a smirk on her face, that made Artair consider treating her with respect. She clearly wasn't a person to be trifled with, and she was serious about not taking care of them at all.

Gormal had drawn an arrow on a large stag, the first red meat any of the men had seen since the raid on Domhnull's clan. Idelle had slapped his shoulder and hissed at him not to shoot the stag.

"Why shouldn't we eat it?" Gormal had asked blankly.

"Didn't any of you listen to your grandmothers and old aunts? None of them were lying about the King Stag, being the King! Only the Queen can hunt him. And we have to keep moving, if we want out of the forest before tomorrow night." Idelle had said quietly, as the stag stared at them for a moment, before calmly walking away.

"No one listens to the mad talk of old women." Artair said derisively.

"You fight against learning anything, don't you?" Domhnull asked sardonically. "I grew up with the Otherfolk haunting my ancestral home. My mother's dressmaker is one of them. The stag is actually the King of the Fair Folk. That's why only his Queen can hunt him without being punished. She wouldn't kill her husband." Domhnull explained.

"Close, the King Stag is the Queen's brother. Her husband is the Royal Consort. The King and his Queen are more often siblings, than married. It's rare that one not of royal lineage is named king or queen. There would be a third, the Prince, But he was marked by a piece of cold iron, and with perfection ruined, he can not rule. He usually runs around as a wild, black stallion." Idelle said, as if this was common knowledge. "The King has judged you Gormal. You have been found acceptable." Idelle said to Gormal, his thick blonde brows went up in surprise.

"I'm honoured." Gormal said, bowing his head.

"I'm not. He's a needy little bugger." Idelle said with a snort.

Rescued and roped into a Quest. Fun times ahead. Please review.


	4. Beset

After they had managed to escape the forest on the opposite side of where they had gone in, Idelle had hurried them to a ridge that overlooked the forest, then turned them around to watch until dawn. A procession of lights had wound quickly through the forest, easily seen from the ridge. Idelle said that it was one of the Queen's Wild Hunts. That was why the King was impatient in the need for his forest to be purged of humans. Even she would have been on the Hunt list, if she remained within the border of the forest. The procession had continued nearly to dawn, when Idelle had pronounced that the King had won. It was too close to dawn for the Queen to loose an arrow on him, killing the Stag, but leaving the King unharmed. Artair had snorted, when Idelle told them that the King allowed the Queen to catch him every other time he was chosen to be the prey. He had gotten looks of curiosity.

"Why would he let her win at all?" Artair asked.

"Because she is his sister, and the Consort he has, demands it. She is the real power behind his crown. He has no head for politics and his Consort leads him. Allowing his sister to win, keeps the Court in balance. Neither is more powerful than the other." Idelle explained, with a shake of her head. Artair was under the Roman impression that women were weak and needed protection and coddling.

Idelle let the men bicker and talk between them as she settled down to get a few hours of sleep, before they had to move again. She woke up a few hours after dawn, to find Domhnull sitting half-asleep as lookout.

"Hey, get some sleep." Idelle said, shaking his shoulder, he started, and looked around.

"I just started my shift as watch." Domhnull said, covering his yawn, and blinking tiredly. Idelle studied him for a moment.

"I hope nothing attacks us then. You're good at sleeping with your eyes open." Idelle said, Domhnull swelled with pride, then realized what she said. He glowered as she chuckled and went through her pack. His eyes got wider when he saw her reach too far into the bag.

"There's more to see than what meets the eye. A magically enhanced bag is the least of what there is." Idelle said, with a pleased smirk, and pulled out a large cooking pot. "Did you think I would have you cooking for me?"

"Only if you wanted to die from poison. I can't even boil water." Domhnull admitted with a snort, Idelle laughed at him.

"It has been my experience, that most men can not cook. Not even soldiers, or those who live on their own. Spitting a rabbit and flame roasting, is not cooking, it is slowly charring the meat." Idelle said, with a grin. "I'm surprised cooking isn't considered witchcraft. You take all of these separate things, a few herbs, some water or cream if necessary, and you have food." Idelle said, as she put dried peas, rosemary, thyme, and a bit of salt, into the pot, and let it simmer. Domhnull's stomach abruptly announced that it had not been filled in nearly a day. He looked sheepish for a moment.

"I said I wouldn't take care of the three of you, but breakfast is not something to do without. And those travel cakes you took were horrible." Idelle said, as the pot simmered, without a fire to warm it.

The smell of food had the other two men up and practically begging for the peas porridge. None of them seemed to notice that the pot was on a cold rock and that Idelle's bag was too small to actually hold a pot that size. Domhnull didn't mention anything, although he had noticed the bag. Idelle seemed to enjoy watching him squirm at the obvious use of magic in her belongings. He may have been accustomed to the Fair Folk, but not the use of magic on a daily basis. Artair was still fuming at Idelle and was refusing to even acknowledge her at the moment. Gormal ate heartily, noting that the porridge didn't run out until Idelle said she was full.

They walked until they reached a large village and riders were dispatched to the various clans the men came from. They convinced Idelle to remain in the town long enough to get word back from their clans. They would remain for at least a week, Dingwall and MacGuffin lands were further away than Macintosh lands. Idelle had found rooms in the small local tavern, taking one for herself and one for the young lords to share. At the moment, they were all in the main room, listening as one of the local drunks was telling about how he escaped a Wild Hunt. He caught Idelle shaking her head and smirking at how wrong he was. Before he could work up enough anger to be insulted, Idelle had disappeared. Followed by the young lords.

"What was that? Are ye trying to get us all in trouble!" Artair demanded hotly.

"Are you going to be like this for the whole quest? "Cause your honour can hang, and I'll have you taken to your home by morning. I'm not going to coddle you to keep your temper in check." Idelle snapped back, fully worn out with Artair's temper tantrums.

As he sputtered and blustered, Domhnull and Gormal, closed him behind them.

"Don't pay any attention to him. He's just…" Domhnull trailed off, unable to explain away Artair's constant irritability.

"He's not been the same since we were taken as captives." Gormal supplied.

"I have a hard time believing he was taken, rather than given as a hostage." Idelle said sarcastically. "This journey could take weeks. We could be in and out of Scotland, Eire, even as far away as the Holy Land. We need to be able to trust each other, not be at each other's throats as the drop of a brogan." Idelle pointed out, more unintelligible sputtering could be heard from behind Gormal and Domhnull.

"We'll keep him under control." Domhnull said, bowing his head, Gormal nodded as well, and shoved Artair when he made to protest, the smaller man squawked and went for a tumble from the deceptively gentle shove. Idelle observed them for a moment, then shrugged and went back inside the tavern to get ready to sleep.

A short chapter. The Adventure starts in the next chapter. Please review, I'd like to know if anyone likes this, at least.


	5. Behooved

By the end of the week, all three Young Lords had gotten replies back from their clans, each one was commanded to return home to remain safe. Artair was all for going back to his clan, until Gormal and Domhnull explained to him just why he was required to come along on the journey. Artair moaned and groaned until Idelle gagged him and left him tied to a tree when they made camp the first evening after leaving the village. She also instructed the two free men not to untie him until his attitude improved. Artair would have remained tied to the tree all night, if Gormal hadn't untied him.

Domhnull quickly came to the realization that he was not cut out for camping, not without an entire retinue. By the second day without someone to cook all his meals, and heat water for his morning scrub, he was quite a fright to behold. Gormal and Artair were faring better in surviving out of doors, but both also showed just what easy living had done for them. Gormal already had a beard growing in, but without trimming daily, it was becoming something only a rat would find appealing. Artair's pale blonde hair seemed to be permanently swept to one side now that he had no comb to tame it, and he was getting on everyone's nerves with his constant griping about the lack of real food. It seemed he and Idelle were to be forever enemies.

By the third day, Idelle finally went digging in her deceptively large bag and dug out her spare hair comb and some ribbons. That the ribbons were black, made it easier for Gormal and Domhnull to use them to tie their hair away from their faces. Artair had snorted in mirth at them and kept his hair loose, until Idelle said she could either cut it off, or he could tie it back, just so long as the complaining stopped. Artair took the little knife and hacked the longest parts of his hair off himself, since Idelle had already proved she could shave hair, when Gormal needed a cut under his chin looked at after the battle with the northern invaders.

All the clans had agreed that something had to be done about them and soon. Gormal had heard that even Clan DunBroch was going to call a war party for all the clans eventually. Domhnull had heard that the clans would elect a king from among the leaders of the clans and he would lead them after the battles to purge the invaders. Both of his now dead brothers had spoken of this often while in the training yard. The oldest daughter of the Clan Kirkaldy would be named as queen and her husband would be the lord chosen to be king.

There was another thing Domhnull noticed about travelling lightly, they moved quickly, even without horses. It was also dead boring since all three young lords had no war stories and only a few anecdotes about routing bandits or hunting large animals. Idelle was tight lipped about her adventures, she did admit to coming from one of the outer isles, where she had been trained, in the dying practice, as a warrior maiden. She had refused to learn the bow, as the Romans who had tried to take the island had a breed of warrior women who removed a breast to make drawing the bow easier. Idelle admitted to being rather attached to her body, as it was the only one she had. This inadvertently planted the seeds of lust in both Artair and Domhnull. Gormal had a betrothed already, and loved the girl.

After four days of walking, they finally came to another town, and were able to purchase horses, now that they were out of the highlands, and heading towards the Saxon lands. The small, pale, soft looking Saxons had already begun invading the Lowlands, simply by breeding into the clans. These Scots would never hold up to the gruelling life of a Highlands Clan. They passed without incident into the Saxon lands and further south east, towards the island of Eire. Domhnull and Gormall were eyed uneasily, as they were physically larger and more intimidating to the people of these southern lands. Even the horses and cattle were smaller and weedier looking when compared to the Highland livestock.

Idelle found their derisive talk of all things not Scots, amusing. She couldn't wait to show them the animals from other lands. Things like lions and tigers, camels, and giraffes, elephants too. The sheer size of the animals would impress them. They were jaded with their Scottish lives, and most that it entailed, but being able to hunt animals no one else had seen before, would be a great thing to do. Not to mention the different cultures they would no doubt be exposed to. She particularly hoped they enjoyed the island she was taking them too. Her home was populated mostly by women, the men were sent away once they reached a certain point in their lives. Many remained, as the men still had a few uses, mainly being able to make weapons and armour with their stronger arms. The young lords would be welcome so long as they minded themselves, Idelle was still only an initiate on her first quest to find a family relic from before her grandmother had come to the island. Idelle would have to leave something of hers in it's place.

Idelle found her small boat at the dock where she had left it. It was a short trip back around to the head of the Highlands. The current was with her this time, and a days sailing erased nearly two weeks of travel on foot and riding. She had grinned and said the current had pulled her much further south than she had intended, and that they were first going to her home, and then to Eire. The Saxons kingdom was not their final destination. It may play a part in their journey, but she didn't count on it.

Domhnull spent the short sea voyage asleep, it was the only way he could cope with the sea sickness. Gormal alternated between rowing and helping sail the small boat, since only he and Idelle had any experience on the open sea. Artair was helpless aboard ship. He managed to keep their supplies dry and edible at least. Without Domhnull to decimate their food supplies, they lasted longer, at least until they made land fall on Idelle's home island.

Nearly a horde of women and a few men met them on the beach. Domhnull was carried to a cool room in a stone hut, with Gormal and Artair sent with him. They were so exhausted, that all three were asleep for several hours. Artair was first to venture out of the room, and found his way to the training fields, were both women and men were training.

Artair found that he was very out of place, when he objected to the linen shifts all the women were wearing for training. He was quickly stifled, before any of the more irritable women heard him. The two men he had found had hurried him away from the rings, and into the kitchen, where an older man sat him down and began to explain things to him. It turned out that the man was the husband of the women's leader, and yet he worked in the main kitchens. Artair asked about that, and all he got was that the headman liked to cook, he didn't have to conform to anyone's idea about what was acceptable for a man to do. Here, if you were good at something, you did it. He also got the idea pounded home, that he would be kicked off the island, if he tried to push his ideals on the people of the island.

Idelle found Artair wandering around, looking gob smacked.

"What's the matter?" Idelle asked, not surprised in the least, when Artair nearly exploded with all his frustrations. All she got was that he was incensed that men were treated as servants and practically enslaved on the island. Several women heard him ranting and watched, fascinated, after Idelle waved them off. Artair had needed a chance to vent everything from the day of his kidnap to landing on the island. After he finally wound down, Idelle led him to a secluded spot on the island, it had been walled in with stone walls that widened outwards, and no ceiling.

"This is one of the hot springs we use for bathing or just relaxing after a hard day of training or work. I'll bring Gormal and Dom up here to keep you company. Just climb in, but don't go in any deeper than your collar bone. The heat from the water could cause heart problems if you were immersed too long." Idelle advised gently, she avoided making references to his earlier outrage, and left him in privacy. Artair waited till Idelle was gone, before he stripped off his clothes and climbed into the stone basin. The water was very hot, not so hot as to be intolerable after a short while, but enough so that Artair could feel his back and leg muscles loosening from the warmth. Riding for days on end was tiring, even if one was accustomed to it. After half an hour, Gormal and Domhnull appeared, looking well rested, Artair was barely coherent from the relaxing warmth, but managed to grunt a greeting. Domhnull and Gormal both laughed and climbed into the basin, hissing through their teeth at the heat.

* * *

Thanks Moonmessi for the review. Yes, all the chapters start with 'B' themed words. Many authors use that trick to be cute. I use it to keep my chapters straight. Again, please Read and Review.


End file.
